Women Who Brung Him Low
by Roruna
Summary: Many people believe that Vimes was brung low by a woman but I believe that he was brung low by several women. Each chapter will be devoted to a different woman in Sam Vimes' life. This is my first fanfic so please be gentle.
1. Wendy

**The Women Who Brung Him Low**

_Author's note: It has been said that Vimes was brung low by a woman. Of course many believe that it was Ankh-Morpork that brung Vimes low but I really think that Vimes was not just brung low by one woman, but by several women. Each chapter will be devoted to a different woman in Sam's life. We'll start with Wendy…_

_P.S. I don't own Vimes, Sergeant Colon or any other canon Discworld character, setting or event. This is just for fun._

Lance-Constable Vimes was in love. Her name was Wendy and he had loved her, his whole life. (1) She was the prettiest girl on Cockbill Street. She had long blond hair and the loveliest freckles across her cheekbones and nose. She also built like a brick house but Vimes' ears would turn a vivid shade of pink just thinking about it. He couldn't believe it when she agreed to go out with him and he swore that when he would marry her as soon as he got promoted to Constable. She was the bright spot in his life. She was helping him heal after losing so many of his friends on May 25th. So he couldn't understand why Sergeant Colon would roll his eyes whenever Wendy came to visit Vimes at the Watch house.

As a joke, the rest of the boys would make a tic mark on the wall for every time Vimes mentioned Wendy. After a month, there was more chalk than paint on the walls. All that teasing was a little insulting actually. Could anyone blame him for caring so much about Wendy? She was so beautiful, the other guys were just jealous anyway. Who wouldn't be jealous of the guy who was dating Wendy? If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he loved being envied so much. He had beat out a lot of other guys when he won Wendy.

Wendy was perfect. Well, mostly perfect. Sure she was a little vain but she was so nice and friendly to everyone. She got along with all of Vimes' friends. That was another point of pride for him. While his friends' girlfriends showed distaste around the guys, Wendy made all the guys feel special. She laughed all everyone's jokes and was so affectionate. She hugged everyone when she said hello or goodbye. Sergeant Colon did not approve of that at all. He also insisted that she was just a big flirt but he was just bitter because Vimes was going to have a prettier wife than he had.

One afternoon Vimes and Wendy had a fight about her 'flirting'. She was utterly insulted and hurt that Vimes would be so jealous and it wasn't like she was his wife or anything. Vimes didn't own her and he had no right to criticize her. She was right after all. He didn't own her and he was just being paranoid. He was sure that everything would be different when they got married. She obviously wanted that, she did make a point of reminding him that they weren't married. Maybe he didn't need to wait until he was a Constable.

He saved up money for almost four, whole months so he could buy Wendy an engagement ring. It was a beautiful ring set in silver with a 1/5 carat diamond; sure it was a bit on the cloudy side but it the best he could afford and he knew that Wendy would see the thought and effort he put in just for her. So he was quite surprised and rather upset when she said no. She said she was extremely moved and flattered but she really couldn't marry him and while she was at it, she really wanted to tell him that it was all over between them.

It wasn't him, it was her. Actually it was her and Brian Wilson. He's joining the Guild of Butchers, remember? Anyway, Wendy and Brian were getting married in a month before she started to show. What did she mean show? Well, she might as well tell Vimes since people were going to talk anyway. Wendy and Brian were in love and had been meeting every night and well, one thing led to another and now she was in a bit of trouble. He was invited to the wedding of course.

(1) Since he was thirteen, which is a very long time indeed.


	2. Josephine

The Women Who Brung Him Low

**The Women Who Brung Him Low**

_Author's note: Here is chapter two, quicker than I expected but I guess I'm on fire. This chapter is devoted to the very caring, Josephine. _

_note the sarcasm._

_P.S. I don't own Vimes, Sergeant Colon, Nobby, etc. Please don't sue me, Mr. Pratchett. _

Constable Vimes hadn't been looking for love but it found him on his 20th birthday. Sergeant Colon, Nobby and the rest of the men on the Watch took him to the Mended Drum for his birthday and that was where he met that Josephine, who worked there as a waitress. She was everything Vimes could want. She was smart, funny and had a beautiful smile that seemed to be for Vimes alone. He couldn't get enough of her. She didn't seem to look at anyone else.

He went to see her everyday at the Drum, rain or shine. Everything was perfect. But he was rather confused about why she seemed so bothered by the fact that he got promoted to Corporal. True, he did have more work to do and he wasn't able to see her as often as he could before and one would think that she would cherish the time they could spend together. Things would only get better for them both. He had gotten a pay raise so they could make a life together. He really didn't love anyone as much as he loved her, despite what she might think.

True, she was a little on the jealous side but it was understandable. He could get jealous too, especially after Wendy so he didn't think much of it. He really tried to show Josephine that she was the only one for him. If it really hurt her feelings so much when he'd look at another girl, even if it was perfectly innocent, for Josephine, he'd stop. Not that he really ran into women all that often in his work anyway. Usually the only women he met were the ones he was arresting for one reason or another and most women were not at their best while they were being booked anyway.

She didn't seem to be just jealous of women, she was practically jealous of his job, even his friends. He really couldn't understand why really. "You're always working" seemed to be her mantra. There was nothing wrong with caring about his job, being a guard is important besides he worked so hard for her anyway. So they could have a good life but she'd hear none of it. She'd scream and cry and carry on. One particular fight would never stop confusing Vimes even after years.

"Where were you last night?" Josephine demanded with her hands on her hips. Vimes tried not to roll his eyes at the clichéd question. He took a breath before answering as calmly as he could. He just knew they were going to have a fight. Vimes had gotten quite good at sensing fights with Josephine. "I was at work." Josephine threw her hands up in the air and made an annoyed coughing sound. "Oh really? Is that so?" Vimes nodded slowly. "Yea. I told you that I was going to have to work." This was where it got confusing. "Oh you _told _me?! Who are you to _tell_ me anything?!"

What kind of question is that to ask? The night went downhill from there. Vimes always tried to be reasonable and not say what was really on his mind but nothing seemed to convince her. Maybe he was being impatient with her; after all dating a copper is hard. It couldn't hurt to try harder to be there for her. Maybe he really was using his work to keep her at a distance. That's no way to go about a relationship.

In an effort to become closer, Vimes would take Josephine to work with him. She assimilated herself into the Watch house fairly quickly and was considering getting a job, not as a guard but they did need someone to tidy up around the place. That didn't help as much as Vimes thought it would. Every time he went on patrol it was the same thing.

"Where are you going?"

"On patrol."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. It depends on if there's anything going on."

"So you could be gone for an hour or a week for all I know?"

"… It'll probably be a few hours."

"How many is a few, exactly?"

"I don't know! Er… three?"

The reader won't be surprise to learn that when Vimes didn't return in exactly three hours after going on patrol, Josephine would be very angry. After a similar exchange, she was even angrier when not only did Vimes not return within three hours but he also returned with a rather drunk woman that was under arrest. Most outside observers when in the same vicinity as a couple in the midst of an argument will focus all their effort into not watching or listening. If they have any other energy left, they'll pretend to be very interesting in some other task.

This task became especially difficult when Josephine directed her wrath from Vimes to the woman who was under arrest. The fight between Josephine and the drunken woman was intriguing at first and even a little sexy, most cat fights usually are. But like most fantasies made reality, it wasn't as great as the men had always thought. It was actually, once Vimes thought about it, really embarrassing. It really was a wonder he didn't get sacked that night. It really was a stroke of luck that the Captain was at some social function that night.

Josephine told Vimes, he had a decision to make. He could either leave his job that he didn't exactly love but he couldn't really imagine doing anything else. Or he could break up with a girl who clearly cared about him, even if she was a little misguided. She was furious with his reply. Well, not only his reply but also with how quickly he replied. She threw the kettle more or less in Vimes' direction and missed.


	3. Tess

The Women Who Brung Him Low

**The Women Who Brung Him Low**

_Author's note: Now for the 3__rd__ installment of Vimes' failed relationship track record. Hopefully, Vimes is older and wiser now. It does take time for someone to become as bitter and angry as the Vimes we know and love. Now without further delay: meet the lovely Tess._

_P.S. I don't own anything related to Discworld, never have, never will and I die a little inside everyday because of it. D_

At twenty-four, Vimes was quite sure he knew everything. Well, maybe not everything, he didn't have a formal education but he knew about life, love, people, all the important things. He was more cautious. One thing that had been instilled into his hind brain was 'You don't own _her_.' Who _her _was, didn't matter. What matters is that he didn't own her. Not that he really thought he owned anyone. He could barely afford boots, much less a person but there it was. He did on occasion wonder if 'you don't own me' was just something women said when they knew they were losing the argument.

It wasn't as if he had time for women anyway. Nobby Nobbs had joined the Watch like he said he would and the… Nobbs was a handful. It was going to take time to ease him out of picking pockets but Vimes was getting a lot better about catching him. It was a real stroke of luck when one afternoon, Nobby picked the pockets of a well-dressed young lady. In one swift move, Vimes grabbed Nobby's shoulder and dragged him back to the lady. Vimes held out his hand and without a word, Nobby rummaged through his pockets and put the nicked money in Vimes' hand.

The young lady giggled when Vimes handed her money back to her. She smiled coyly as she spoke. "Why thank you, my knight in shining armor." Vimes felt his face get warmer. "Wha?" Nobby rolled his eyes. He was definitely seeing a pattern. How could otherwise perfectly competent people turn into utter tits with it came to matter of the heart? At least this one looked like she might have some class.

It turned out that while Tess did have great taste; she was a maid at Lord Venturi's house and therefore not totally out of Vimes' league. She was stylish, cultured and graceful, a side effect from being exposed to the upper crust. At least that's what she thought. Vimes thought that for a maid, she was paid extremely well and that made the back of his head itch every time he thought about it.

Unfortunately he didn't have much time to think about it because it turned out not to be true. One morning, Tess was knocking frantically on Vimes' door. She'd been crying and was holding a sack full of her belongings. She had been fired from her job, which was a live-in position and she couldn't afford a new place on such short notice. "Can I stay with you for a little while? Please Sam, I _really_ need your help. I need my knight in shining armor." Vimes was at a crossroads, her plea spoke volumes and he knew that but like most people who need to be in control, he ignored his little warning bells and took the role of rescuer.

Any idiot could see that was a mistake, in fact the Watch's resident idiots, Sergeant Colon and Lance-Constable Nobbs, said so, rather frequently. But Tess wasn't such an unpleasant roommate. She still didn't have a job so she kept their room in order, but Vimes could never find anything after she was done cleaning, and she didn't seem to mind that Vimes worked nights. Maybe things would work out all right after all. Then the other overpriced, designer shoe dropped.

Tess seemed to be a firm believer in 'what's mine is yours' or at least she thought Vimes was. She had filled what little closet space they had with gowns, shoes, coats and other fashion accessories that she didn't have the money for and she certainly didn't have the occasion to wear anyway. Thankfully whenever Vimes pointed that out, she at least had the decency to not say 'you don't own me'. But that didn't stop her from shopping anyway so after awhile, Vimes didn't even bother saying anything anymore.

He couldn't even complain to anyone. Well, he could have complained to Colon and Nobby but he was so embarrassed about it. He knew how they felt about Tess and he was never in the mood to hear them say 'I told you so', part of his brain said that enough already. He started spending his mornings after work at The Bunch of Grapes. Not that he got the chance to get drunk. He only ever had enough money for one pint but at least it meant he didn't have to go home and see all that silk and lace and wonder where the hell all his stuff was.

Then in an act of pure, selfish, self-preservation, Vimes got Tess a job as a maid at the Guild of Lawyers. At first, Tess didn't seem very happy with her new job but over the course of a few weeks, she grew to love it. Then on a day that Vimes declared a personal holiday for about a month, Tess broke up with him.

"Sam, we need to talk."

"We do?"

"Yes… I… I've met someone else."

"Oh, I see…" (1)

Tess was in tears now. "I'm so sorry. You've been so sweet to me and I felt so _guilty_."

"You don't have anything to feel guilty about. It happens, I understand."

"I'm so glad you're taking this well."

After a few more tears from Tess, Vimes helped her pack and she was gone. He really did owe it to himself to at least grieve a little. She wasn't as bad as some others and she did feel guilty for… what was it, infidelity? It would have to do for now. He had loved her once, until the lace and silk had taken over. But he was more relieved that sad that she was gone and he felt terrible about that. That morning, Sam Vimes went to The Bunch of Grapes and got totally and utterly pissed.

Indeed the acting community suffered a great loss when Vimes chose coppering over the stage.

_Author's note: that's 3 down, 3 to go. I may include one final chapter for Sybil to wrap things up but I'm not sure yet. Let me know what you think. _


	4. Prue

The Women Who Brung Him Low

**The Women Who Brung Him Low **

_Author's Note: After much anticipation, here is chapter four. Not much I can say except thank you for your continued interest and meet… Prue. Be warned, she was not very nice at all. That's sorta the point._

_P.S. I do not own Discworld or anything on it. goes to cry in a corner somewhere._

On his day off, Sergeant Vimes, on a rather strange whim, decided to do a thorough cleaning of his room on Wixon's Alley. Not that there was much that needed cleaning but somehow for someone who hardly spent anytime at home and didn't have much disposable income, he'd accumulated a lot of crap that he had no idea what do to with. It was at times like these that he missed having a girlfriend. He rolled his eyes at his own selfish thoughts and got back to the task at hand.

He was very nearly done; all he had left was to clean under the bed. What he mostly found under there was bits of trash, stray underwear and a box pushed all the way to the back. After some struggling, he managed to pull it out and checked its contents. Inside the box were some women's shoes and a few dresses. For a moment, fear gripped Vimes' heart and he tried to think of the last time he had blacked out while drunk. For a minute, he wondered if the clothes were a Clue.

He carefully continued to examine the clothes. The dresses were made of silk and much too small for him. He breathed at last. Whatshername (1) must have forgotten them when she moved out. So now there was a matter of deciding what to do with them. He didn't know where to reach her to give them back and the clothes were too nice to just throw out. He decided to sell them to one of the pawn shops; he'd probably inadvertently brighten some woman's day.

There were quite a large number of pawn shops all over Ankh-Morpork so he picked one at random and went inside. At the counter was young woman who looked eternally annoyed. She was reading a book and didn't even look up when the little bell on the door rang as Vimes entered. Vimes put the box on the counter and waited for the woman to look up. After about a minute, Vimes sighed and cleared his throat. The woman, paused for a second, turned the page of her book and kept reading. After about another minute, Vimes spoke. "Excuse me."

The woman took a scrap of paper to mark the page she was at in her book and looked up at last. "What the hell do you want?" It took Vimes a minute to collect his thoughts. "I wanted to unload some stuff." He pointed to the box. The woman kept watching Vimes long enough to make him feel very awkward. She didn't even look at the box. "I'll give you five dollars for the lot." Vimes snorted. "That's ridiculous, you didn't even look at it!" The woman shrugged. "Don't need to. I know it's a bunch of clothes. It's always a bunch of old clothes and I make it a point never to pay more than five dollars for clothes. You won't get more than that anywhere else. You ought to take it and be jolly grateful for my generous nature."

(1) Yes, he felt guilty about not remember the name of a woman he had _lived_ with but most nights he had trouble remembering what he did the day before, remembering things from four years ago was a goal not easily attained.

She didn't speak so much as sneer. She really believed she was being more than generous all the time and the rest of the universe was just a bunch of bloody ungrateful bastards. Vimes wasn't going to stand for it. "Those dresses are real silk and the shoes have real leather all over. I know I paid more than twenty when they were new and they've hardly been used." The woman laughed as she finally decided to look through the box. Vimes got the impression she was laughing at him. "Ok, so why are you selling them? Finally realized you're too old to dress in drag?" She pulled up a pair of tights.

This struck a rather strange nerve. It was just such a ridiculous question. He leaned forward with both hands on the counter. "They belonged to my ex-girlfriend. There is no way in this universe… or any other for that matter, which I would ever wear…" He spat the word. "Tights." The woman raised an eyebrow. Vimes got the feeling that she was thinking something along the lines of 'just keep telling yourself that, love'. She smiled at him for the first time.

It wasn't a particularly beautiful smile, or a smile that said anything really pleasant. Her smile conveyed the impression that she was doing whoever she was smiling at a huge favor. But Vimes couldn't continue being mad at her. He felt strangely proud that he earned her smile. Little alarm bells rang in Vimes' brain. He ignored them, as usual. Smiles always disarmed his alarm. The woman sighed and pulled the box closer to her. "All right, 'cause I like you. I'll give you ten. I'm Prudence by the way." She held out her hand, Vimes shook it. "A pleasure to meet you, Prue. I'm Sam, Sam Vimes." Prudence grimaced when Vimes called her Prue. "Not Prue, please. Prudence."

Vimes always made it a point of calling her Prue. For some reason he really got a kick out of making her angry. She was one of those people who when mad was infinitely entertaining and it was the only time when she wasn't acting like she was favoring him with her presence. But it was a bit of hit or miss how mad she'd get. Some days, he could entertain himself for hours well before she really lost her temper and other days, much like any other, he couldn't get a word in before she slapped him.

She slapped him a lot. That didn't bother him, he dealt with much worse in the Watch and it was a little private victory for him when she did. It _proved _that he had won the fight. On very special occasions, he could get her to kick him in the shin. That he didn't like so much, for one thing, it hurt quite a bit but she always apologized afterwards. She was always the sweetest after kicking him and it would usually take a few days before Vimes could get her wound up again.

She could get wound up though. Over time, Vimes learned that she got heated about everything. His tone of voice seemed to be a hot button issue for her. Especially when he'd say something perfectly innocent and then it would start.

"What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

"Bull. C'mon tell me. Clearly you have something on your mind so just say it!"

It really didn't matter what he said at that point. He had already won when she asked what he meant by what he said, all that was left was a brief exchange and then she'd kicked him, feel horrible about it and beg forgiveness. But after awhile, she didn't stop at kicking him. That day had come as a bit of a surprise. When she raised her hand, he thought. 'Here it comes. A slap and a little sting. The end.' He was pretty startled when she punched him in his left eye. As soon as she had lowered her hand, she started sobbing. "Oh my gods, I'm sorry! I just… you shouldn't have said that and you know it!"

By this point, Vimes' relationship alarm was ringing continuously. It had become that noise you don't hear anymore. All he did was roll his eyes and go to work, like always. No one asked about his black eye that day. This was Ankh-Morpork after all and he was in the Watch. That whole day his alarm was ringing louder than usual and it took a great deal of effort and Bearhugger's to drown it out. He couldn't really say what was making him refuse to listen to common sense. He didn't love her. That was for sure. So what was keeping him with her?

He knew she was no good for him, not that he was any good for her either. She liked being mad and he liked making her mad, maybe that's all that was required. Was that some strange kind of happiness? Maybe he couldn't do any better. He certainly didn't deserve some… fairytale. He drank another bottle of Bearhugger's and tried not to think about women.

Things didn't get any better; they only seemed to get worse. A black eye was hardly a special occasion anymore. A cut lip was later added into the relationship and Vimes found this strangely funny. On their one year anniversary, after much thought, she gave him a broken nose and Vimes gave her a cruel and accurate observation. He did on occasion think how satisfying it would be to hit her back and he even started thinking maybe that's what she wanted. Wanting to be hit wasn't a huge leap for her was it? After all, he did. Didn't he?

He didn't notice what a strange turn his thoughts had made until one evening he was sent to handle a domestic disturbance. Well, it wasn't a disturbance by the time he got there. It was a middle aged woman holding a bloody meat tenderizer, with a bloody nose, standing over a man with his head bashed in. She was crying and when Vimes came in all she said was. "I tried to stay out of his way when he had bad days. Couldn't he do the same for me?" Vimes nodded slowly and spent the rest of the evening at the Bunch of Grapes forgetting all the events that followed except that he broke up with Prue.


	5. Chelsea

The Women Who Brung Him Low

**The Women Who Brung Him Low**

_Author's note: Here is the fifth chapter of my very controversial first work of published fan fiction. I thank you all for your patience and advice. So now, let me introduce you to dear Chelsea. Warning: this is not going to be Sam Vimes' shining hour. He will not be nice in this chapter. _

_P.S. I don't own… blah blah blah. You know that drill._

MRS. VIMES?

Sam Vimes' mum got out of bed for the first time in days and noticed that she looked… gauzy. "Oh… damn." She looked at the tall figure in black. "How kind of you to come by in person. I'm sorry; the house is in a bit of a state…"

I UNDERSTAND. PEOPLE GENERALLY AREN'T EXPECTING ME.

Sam's mum nodded and sighed. "Our Sam will be lost without me… He's such a sensitive boy."

I'M SURE HE'LL MANAGE.

"I just wish I knew if he'll be all right. I don't suppose you'd know?"

I'M REALLY NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT THAT.

"You can't even tell me one thing? Who am I going to tell, I'm dead."

WELL… ALL RIGHT. Death thought for a moment. HE'LL QUIT DRINKING IN A FEW YEARS.

That seemed to satisfy Mrs. Vimes. She smiled and sighed with relief. "I'm so glad."

It took some time for the reality to sink it. Captain Vimes was over thirty and he was an orphan. That thought did feel silly but it was the truth. His dad was gone, and now so was his mum. He found himself wishing he had made more of an effort to visit her every week and get her decent gifts for Hogswatch and her birthday but it was too late. He wouldn't be able to grieve properly for a few days either. He had to plan her funeral fortunately, since she was from Cockbill, she had saved up for this very occasion. She deserved a proper send off.

He had kept it together at the cemetery, the caterers, and the undertaker. He could just tell that everyone involved in the process didn't really care as much as they pretended to. It was all he could do to keep from pummeling the priest that would perform the service. By the time he got the florist to pick the flowers, he couldn't really keep it together.

He looked at the other customers. Most of them were men, probably buying flowers for their girlfriends or wives. He wondered how many were there for their mothers and he wondered how often they thought of their mothers and he could just feel the rage boiling over. He wanted shout at the lot of them that before they tried to buy off some woman to sleep with them, they really should get something for their mother who loved them unconditionally from the beginning and accepted all of their horrible flaws. He didn't say anything because he knew he wasn't mad at anyone but himself.

He lingered around a large assortment of white roses waiting for everyone to leave and ended up just staring at one of buds that hadn't quite opened up yet. He really shouldn't be feeling this terrible. Yes, his mother was dead but he was a grown man. So why did he feel like he was going to break into very unmanly and embarrassing sobs right there in front of the roses?

He didn't even notice that everyone had finally left and that the lady working behind the counter was standing behind him. She coughed softly and touched his shoulder. "Can I help you, sir?" Vimes pulled himself together before he turned to look at the woman. She smiled gently to him. There were no alarms, there was nothing. It took Vimes several seconds to get his thoughts into any kind of order. "I need some flowers." The woman nodded. "Are they for your wife?" Some part of Vimes' brain told him that there was something odd about her tone but he didn't bother registering that he was very possibly being hit on.

He shook his head. "They for my mother… her funeral." Oh how he pined for a drink. The woman tilted her head in that way people to when they want to convey sympathy. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She took his arm and led him gently through the shop and asking various questions, about him, his mother, details about the funeral. He must have answered her questions but he was damned if he remembered anything he said. But the flowers were sorted out and this woman, her name was Chelsea, ended up with Vimes at The Bunch of Grapes for a quiet drink.

Vimes wouldn't notice how Chelsea fussed over him until about a week after the funeral. When he did finally notice, it felt wonderful. She did everything for him. She cooked for him. She tried to make distressed pudding like his mum had but it wasn't the same. It was nice that she tried though. One afternoon before he left for the Watch house, she surprised him with a scarf and a pair of mittens she knitted for him when he was asleep.

If he had thought more about it, he probably would have been worried but he really didn't give it a second thought. Sure he wore the scarf but he ended up losing the mittens somewhere and had completely forgotten about them when she mentioned them. She always sent him off to work with some pie or another and she was always saying things like 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'. To which, Vimes would reply, 'A quicker way to go would be through the ribcage you know'. That going through the stomach thing was a daft cliché anyway. Sometimes he'd say so.

The ironic thing was that she was a really good cook. Unfortunately, Vimes was not a remotely good eater. He usually only ever had one or two bites of whatever she made, mostly to keep himself from getting too drunk. She always looked really sad when he came back with his dish only picked at and he really didn't understand why she kept trying. If he didn't enjoy her cooking to begin with, it wasn't going to change.

He was subtly cruel to her. He never said anything particularly derogatory about or to her but he did act a like a spoiled little boy would to his mother. It was so easy, she was so… soppy. No matter what he said about her cooking or her knitting or any of the million things she did to please him, she kept trying. Sometimes he wanted to just shout and her and tell her that he didn't like her just to see if she'd stand up to him.

There was nothing he could do to deter her. She always looked at him like he was some kind of salvation. He could just tell that she was thanking the gods for bringing the two of them together. It was bloody daft! He did sometimes wonder if she really thought that or his ego had just run away with him. His answer finally came when she took him to her youngest sister's wedding.

Chelsea was third of five girls. After the youngest girl's wedding, she was the only one left that wasn't married. It was all so clear now. The poor soul was hoping to finally land herself a husband. He didn't even need his alarm to go off. He already knew this was bad news. The more he learned about this woman, the more pathetic she seemed. Her whole family picked on her and treated Vimes like he was some kind of conquering hero. He was thanked repeatedly by Chelsea's sisters and parents for giving Chelsea the time of day.

The bride was especially cruel. She kept saying things like, 'I was so worried my day wouldn't be happy because of poor ol' Chelsea being a spinster and all. I'm so glad I don't have to worry about her anymore.' Vimes almost proposed to Chelsea just to spite that hateful little bride. It was well known that brides hated sharing the spotlight on 'their day'. Actually… after he got a few drinks in him, that wasn't such a terrible idea.

So after the best man had made his toast. Vimes stood up. "I'm sure none of you really know me, I'm Sam Vimes. I'm here with Chelsea." He waited until the applause died down. "I have a few things I want to get off my chest." He took Chelsea's hand gently. "Chelsea, you're the kindest, sweetest, warmest woman I've ever had the privilege of meeting. I know I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate you but I do. I never thought I'd ever be this happy." Vimes looked down for a moment acting embarrassed. "I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you but I wanted to ask you in front of your family and I think this is my best chance. Chelsea, will you marry me?"

This is the point where it stopped being funny. Well, after the bride made that infuriated face and managed to gasp and growl at the same time, it stopped being funny. Chelsea was in tears. She jumped up and down, hugging and kissing Vimes, crying out 'yes, yes'. Everyone applauded, except for Chelsea's sisters, who just pouted and crosses their arms, glaring at their husbands.

Chelsea and Vimes sneaked away, shortly after. Chelsea was walking on air and she kept going on about the beautiful wedding they would have. Vimes wasn't listening. His alcoholic glow had faded away when Chelsea had started crying tears of joy and the more time passed the worse he felt. He really didn't need to do that. There must have been a hundred ways that he could have annoyed the bride but no, he had to do and destroy Chelsea's happiness, didn't he?

He couldn't believe he had it in him to be so cruel. Where did he learn that? He stopped walking and took Chelsea's shoulders. "I'm sorry." Chelsea smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry, we can pick a ring out together later." Vimes shook his head and prayed for death. "Not that. I… I can't marry you." Chelsea's pupils dilated to a rather dangerous degree. "What?"

"I just did that to shut your family up. Did you notice how awful they were being?"

"Oh yes, not like you. How could you do that?"

"I don't know… I just—"

"How am I going to face my family, my friends? What am I going to tell them?"

"You can tell them that you decided not to marry me…"

"Oh well, thank you for that. How generous of you. How dare you!"

This would be the moment when she would have slapped him but she didn't. "I did everything for you! I cooked, I cleaned… I knitted for you! I was practically your wife already and you have the nerve to… to…" She started to sob, loudly and without dignity. After a few minutes she pulled herself together and looked at him with all the hatred, rage and fury of the multiverse.

"Samuel Vimes. May you never know real happiness. May all good turns the universe gives you be washed away like a sand castle is washed away by the waves. May all your efforts come to naught. May all your failures be monstrous and broadcast. And may one thousand drinks never be enough."

Chelsea turned her heel and walked briskly away from Vimes with her head held high. Vimes groaned and mentally scolded himself until he got to The Bunch of Grapes and it wasn't until he had finished two bottles of Bearhugger's did he stop. The last coherent thought he had was that he was going to hell and it was only fair.

_Author's note: believe when I say this that I had no idea that this chapter would go this way. I know it was mean and I'm sure that a lot of you think that Sam would never do something like that. I understand that so it does not need repeating. It just happened. Please don't flame me. _


	6. Rita

The Women Who Brung Him Low

**The Women Who Brung Him Low**

_Author's note: ok, here is the last chapter of this fanfic. Thanks for sticking by me on this journey of self-expression and artistic liberty. I hope y'all had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. I will write a Sybil chapter to conclude this piece but I am of the school of thought that thinks that Sybil deserves a whole fanfic, not just a chapter at the end. So I will try my damndest to do her justice without getting too out of hand. _

_P.S. I don't own anything, at all in this or any other universe. _

Captain Vimes spent more time at The Bunch of Grapes than he did anywhere else. To say that it was his second home would have been quite an understatement. Occasionally, a very tiny and somehow still sober part of his brain would say things along the lines of 'stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your shit together'. Anytime that part of brain started talking, he knew that he'd have to chug whiskey to get it to shut up.

It wasn't just past heartbreak that led him to this place, it was everything. Everything that started from the moment that Vimes had been born on Cockbill Street, Ankh-Morpork led him to this place. He hated thinking about all that. It meant that he was whining, not out loud, but _he _could still hear himself whine. Maybe another drink would shut him up.

Next to him, sat a woman… or at least what was probably one woman but in Vimes' current state looked like three women. She looked at him. "This seat taken?" He tried to shake his head, which was rather tricky when it was rested on the bar. "No… but I don't think… the, the, the… three of you'll fit…" The woman smirked at him. "Don't you think you've had enough, pal?" Vimes closed his eyes and pondered that question, he got asked that a lot, though he couldn't really say why. He remembered something someone said to him a long time ago, he'd be damned if he remembered who. "A thousand drinks wouldn't be enough."

The woman turned away from Vimes and must have ordered herself a drink because after a few seconds, she was holding one in her hand. "So… what was it? A woman?" Vimes blinked and felt genuinely confused. "I, I don't remember." He pushed himself into a sitting upright position. On cue, the bar tender refilled his glass. The woman continued to watch Vimes carefully. Vimes sighed and looked at her. "If you're feeling chatty, just start talking. Don't ask me questions, pretending to care if all you want is for me to ask you."

The woman's mouth opened for a moment then she shut it. She seemed… was it impressed or surprised? Either way, she did start talking like Vimes told her to. "Uh… I'm Rita by the way." She looked down at her drink trying to think of what to say next. "My husband just left me and our two children." She gulped her drink and motioned for a refill. "The bastard… I give him the best years of my life… two healthy and wonderful children… I did everything for that man… and he just up and leaves." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that. To go after some twenty year-old."

Ah, thought Vimes. I thought so. Rita didn't' seem to notice Vimes at all anymore. She was rather busy getting things off her chest. "The bastard. He's such a bastard. All men are bastards." She looked at Vimes and felt the need to back pedal. "Except you, of course. I'm sure." Vimes waved his hand dismissively. "No, you're right all men are bastards. All women are bastards too though. They cheat… they… manipulate… they steal… they hit…" He snorted. "Then they make you feel bad for making them hit you…" He looked down and spoke very quietly. Rita didn't hear him at all. Not that she had gone out of her way to hear him thus far. "They curse. But you deserved that, don't you?"

There was a long silence. Both Vimes and Rita stared at their drinks pondering the general misfortune of their lives. Eventually, Rita looked at Vimes again and Vimes turned to look at her. She smiled, rather timidly. "I'm feeling very… unattractive and old right now. I would really like some reassurance to the contrary." Vimes smirked at her. At least she learned quickly how to talk to him. He thought for a moment about what exactly to say. In the drunken fog, one particular phrase sounded especially appropriate and of course, hilarious. "Were I able to stand, I would take you in a manly fashion."

The rest of the night from that point was a bit of blur. Did they go back to her place or his? Either way, he felt much better the following day. It really had been way, way, _way_, too long. He was actually surprised he still remembered how and that he could manage it with all that alcohol in him. The power of sex is quite amazing. Suddenly, everything seemed brighter, there was a light at the end of the tunnel… there was a tunnel instead of a bottomless abyss of despair.

That's no way to act after a one night stand, Vimes reminded himself. He told himself he knew almost nothing about this woman, except that her name was Rita, her husband left her and she had two children. That should be enough to keep him away from her forever. But he still found himself thinking about her at work and he was pleasantly surprised to see her again at The Bunch of Grapes some days later.

They sat down at a table as soon as they saw one another. They drank their first drink in shy silence. Vimes was the first to speak. "How are your kids?" Rita nodded and coughed. "Fine, they're fine. Their dad has them for a few days." Vimes nodded and sipped his second drink. "That's nice." There was more awkward silence. This time Rita spoke. "You know… I had a good time, the other night. Maybe we could…" Rita stopped talking. She looked at Vimes hoping that he'd fill in the blanks. Vimes shrugged. "What exactly do you want?"

Rita shrugged and looked down. "I don't know." Vimes leaned forward, feeling strangely impatient. "You must have some idea. Here, I'll help you. Choose from the following, if any apply. A father for your children? Someone to make your ex-husband jealous? Another adult to talk to? Someone to grow old with?" He waited a moment while Rita thought. After a time she spoke, still unsure. "My kids wouldn't want anyone to replace their dad and I'm not sure I'd want to grow old with you… No offense."

"None taken."

"I guess another adult to talk to…"

"Glad we settled that."

"And… occasionally… you know."

"Of course. I wasn't going to waste my time talking to you otherwise."

"Likewise."

It wasn't a very romantic arrangement but it did work, more or less. Since they only ever met to talk or fool around, there was no need to meet the kids, something that Vimes was infinitely grateful for. It was hard to say what they talked about. Mostly they talked about disappointment. Rita's husband was not the first man that had left her hurt and she hadn't expected that her life would turn out the way it did. She like everyone else had had dreams once.

The saying goes that 'misery loves company' which was very true in this instance. It was created a very strong illusion of contentment and even love. But given their shared disappointment, they preferred to pretend that they weren't happy together, just not as miserable. Here is how Vimes knew that he wasn't in love. One afternoon, he and Rita were having a drink. Rita rolled her eyes as Vimes started on his third glass of Bearhugger's.

"I really wish you wouldn't drink so much."

"And I really wish you didn't have kids. But we must accept each other as we are. I know that neither of us wants to change for the sake of the other."

"Ye Gods, I hate it when you get all… philosophical. You know if you were as half as clever as you act, you wouldn't be a pathetic drunk guard."

"Yes… so what's your point?"

"Do you ever intend to stop acting like a wiseass teenager?"

"No I don't, darling. Among other things, I'm a cranky old man and like all cranky old men, I am set in my ways."

He could tell that Rita wanted to change the nature of the Arrangement. She knew that he knew but he had no intention of going out of his way to change it if she was going to be so damn… subtle about it. They had not entered the Arrangement with games in mind. He despised the games women played and he knew that she despised them too, so why did she have to go and start acting like a woman all of the sudden?

He wasn't really aware of it but he was playing games, maybe not the games that women play but definitely a game that men play. He wasn't happy with the way things were going but fearing change and confrontation, he just acted… like himself but more so. At least he amplified his many flaws in the hopes of pushing Rita to make a move, any move would have sufficed. Rita did catch on to this ruse in time.

There was fighting. They fought about everything under the sun and Rita did not fight fair. But than neither did Vimes. At any given point in the fighting, Rita would site how Vimes was like old boyfriend X, Y or Z. Oddly enough; this did get under Vimes' skin. He was familiar with all of them from Rita's stories and the thing that really got to him was that he couldn't understand why he got so angry about being compared to them. On one particularly heated fight, Rita made the mistake of saying Vimes was 'just like my ex-husband'. That just about did it.

"Rita, did it ever occur to you that maybe they were not the problem? I've always wondered something… maybe you can clarify it for me. Was it them that made you mental or did you push them with your… lunacy?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Just like that, the Arrangement was over. It took some discussion but Vimes got custody of The Bunch of Grapes which he took full advantage of in the following weeks and like always, Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs would arrive to help him sit upright. Though they had been in this exact situation several times before, Colon and Nobbs were never quite sure what to say to Vimes. It was Nobby's turn to speak first this time. "You know… you probably won't get into these messes if you just went to the Guild of Seamstresses before your wossanames were ready to burst."

Vimes turned his head carefully to look straight at Nobby. He could feel his eyes bugging out a bit, then narrow and his mouth opened and shut several times as he tried to decide whether or not Nobby had actually said what Vimes thought he said. "What?" Nobby shrugged a little. "I don't mean all the time. Just you know… when you need to. It would save you a lot of grief. I'd go but they're so picky. You, I don't think would have a problem."

Vimes shook his head, not because he disagreed with anything Nobby had said but just to illustrate the… wrongness of the path the conversation was taking. "I… Er… Look…" Vimes could feel a headache creeping up slowly. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" He started laughing, loudly and without humor. "This is not how the conversation's supposed to go. You're supposed to say 'don't worry, cap. You'll find someone new. There's lots of fish in the sea'. Crap like that."

Sergeant Colon took this to be his cue. He patted Vimes' shoulder vaguely. "Uh… don't worry, cap. You'll find someone new. There's plenty of fish in the sea." When Vimes turned to look at Colon, Colon smiled weakly. Vimes just stared at him, he felt like there were questions that he should be asking and that all around him the world was slowly going insane and if he could just think of the right question, everything would make sense again.

"Fred…"

"Yes, captain?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, captain."

_Author's note: That's all, folks. Well, I do still need to write a chapter for Sybil. I do hope you've enjoyed my fic. (I think I already said that.) Either way, thanks for everything. Your patience, your input, your hits, and everything. Thank you, ! Good night! _


	7. Sybil

Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Author's note: time to wrap things up. I decided that to conclude my fanfic, I'd write something sweet and a bit on the fluffy side. Here's my version of Sam and Sybil's wedding. Try not to choke on all the fluff. _

_P.S. I don't own Sam, Sybil, SGT Colon, CPL Nobby or any other Discworld characters that will appear in this fic. _

Vimes and Carrot had been gone for about half an hour. Lord Vetinari was sitting in the Great Hall showing everyone that he was indeed still alive. Sergeant Colon was pacing around nervously. Arch Chancellor Ridcully was starting to get impatient. When was the groom going to come back? He was starting to feel hungry. He met the Dean's eyes and they nodded knowingly to each other. There was a reception to get on with; it was really a shame they still had to wait for the ceremony.

After a few more minutes, Ridcully tapped Colon on the shoulder. "Has someone told the bride what's going on?" Panic struck Colon's face. He had never known Lady Sybil to lose her temper… but he did remember when she was going to be fed to the dragon and brides are not women at their most reasonable. "Do we have to tell her?" Ridcully nodded. "I think she's going to start to wonder why she's not getting married right now."

Colon looked frantically around for some help from… well anyone really. Mister Vimes would have been a good start. But unfortunately, he wasn't back yet and as best man, it seemed that Colon had more obligations then anyone had bothered to mention. "Ok… but I'm not going alone." He took a handful of Ridcully's sleeve and dragged him to one of the back rooms of the Great Hall that had been taken over by Lady Sybil's female relatives and converted into the Bridal Changing Room.

One of the bridesmaids, probably named Emma, was standing just outside, apparently standing guard. She looked at Colon. "What's taking so long? Why hasn't the wedding started?" Colon raised his hands trying to think of what to say. "That's what we're here about… You see… the Patrician was shot—"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Colon gritted his teeth. "I was getting to that. Well, Mister Vimes and Carrot have gone after the… you know." The bridesmaid looked at Colon with some confusion and a hint of annoyance. "Why would the groom go after a killer? He's supposed to be getting married." Colon groaned. "Can I please speak with Lady Sybil?" The bridesmaid seemed uncertain for a moment. She was well aware that she was supposed to keep the groom out but she didn't know if she was supposed to keep all men out. "Hang on a minute."

She opened the door just enough to squeeze into the Changing Room and slammed the door as Colon took a step forward. Ridcully and Colon leaned against the door hoping for some kind of clue to Lady Sybil's mood, not that it would help them much if she had morphed into a crazed harpy. The bridesmaid opened the door suddenly. "She wants to speak with you." Colon looked panic-stricken at Ridcully. But found no help from the senior wizard. He hesitantly stepped into the Changing Room.

Sergeant Colon had never seen so many frills in one place. There were half a dozen chairs, upholstered with some satiny fabric and trimmed with lace. Lady Sybil was standing in the middle of the room looking nervous and very much like a white layer cake. She lifted her veil and tried to smile. "So… what did you need to talk about, Sergeant?" Colon found that he was breathing more normally. Lady Sybil was still Lady Sybil, even covered in lace and silk.

"Mister Vimes and Carrot went after whoever shot his Lordship and they're not back yet. I wasn't sure if anyone had told you what the hold up was." Colon was turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Lady Sybil sighed but she seemed to recover quickly. "Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon. Thank you for letting me know the situation and do tell me when he arrives, will you?" Colon nodded quickly and then stepped out of the Changing Room.

Ridcully was still standing outside but the Dean and Nobby had joined him. The Dean cleared his throat nervously. "You know, if Mister Vimes doesn't get back soon, you're going to have to marry her." Colon dropped his helmet. "What? I-I can't get married, my wife would kill me!" Ridcully stepped forward. "What do you mean your wife? You're already married?" Colon nodded frantically. Ridcully made a face. "Well… that's just obscene."

The Dean raised his hands trying to calm everyone. "It's all right, we can figure something out. Uh… who's next in line then?" Ridcully and Colon both looked at the Dean with some puzzlement. The Dean grinned nervously. "I mean, if Sergeant Colon wouldn't have been the best man, who would it have been?" Colon thought for a moment. "I suppose Carrot… but he's not here either." The Dean rubbed his forehead. "Ok, then who's after Carrot?" Colon shrugged. "Nobby I guess."

The Dean looked at Corporal Nobbs. For a minute, he felt a strong pang of sympathy for Lady Sybil. "And… er… you're not married, are you… sir?" Nobby shook his head, smiling widely. He gave the Dean a sharp salute. "No, sir and I would be honored to marry Lady Sybil if Mister Vimes really has gone and done a runner." The Dean, Arch Chancellor and Sergeant Colon all looked at each other with terror in their eyes and a desperate smile on their faces. They decided unanimously that they would keep the fact that Nobby was the stand in groom from Lady Sybil for the time being. No sense in worrying her with irrelevant details.

Sergeant Colon started walking briskly away from the door in the direction of Great Hall entrance. "I'll just go and keep an eye out for Mister Vimes, then." The Dean and Arch Chancellor both nodded and followed him. Nobby looked at the wizards leave and then back at the door to the Changing Room with some uncertainty. He was about to knock on the door when he heard Sergeant Colon's voice. "Nobby! C'mon!" Nobby groaned and then scuttled away from the door in the direction of Sergeant Colon's voice.

**To be continued…**

_Weren't expecting that, were you? As I predicted, this chapter was getting out of hand so I decided to give Sybil a full fanfic as she deserves. As for this fic… that's all folks. XD_


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